Sketches from The Other Realms
by crux-sacro
Summary: A collection of BH AU oneshots. Constructive critisisms always welcome! #1 At the Manor-Side: Miss Scarlette had not forseen to lose her shawl no more than did she expect to receive a new one as a gift.


Disclaimer: Bleach and the characters belong to Kubo Tite. As for the story, I have little to say other than enjoy

and warn you that the rating may change depending on each oneshot.

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Sketch #1: At the Manor-Side

_A letter sent to a Ms. Ise N., from Ms. Scarlett from the Rotwood Manor_

Dear Ise,

The time flies really too quickly for one to grasp; I can't believe how we hoped for the years to flow away so we could escape the dreaded Boarding School and try out on our own. I have recently heard you have fashioned yourself the position of book-keeper at the London boutique of Mr. K-. I must say, it is a very prominent position even so for he is one of the most affluent clothes merchant of the era. I'm sure every day would bring a sort of wild and interesting event for you to delve into, although you complain of the headaches and business that come as ramification. My position as a governess, compared to yours, is rather dull; the time certainly ticks away in much slower pace, especially if you live in a grand manor with only a handful of people. But I think this pastoral life suits my person better than giddy bustles of the city. Besides, living here grants one the privilege of surrounding oneself with cherry blossoms; the scent is most wonderful, and the scenery spectacular. Although I have heard of the famed Forest of the Ten Thousand Cherry Blossoms, I had never imagined such sight until I witnessed cherry blossom buds bursting into flower.

I was reminded of you just the other day while talking a walk at the Forest with Ms. Lucretia. Do you remember a blue cashmere shawl you bought me as a going-away present? Well, while I was taking a walk with Ms. Lucretia—Rukia, as she prefers to be called—a gush of wind suddenly blew towards me and suddenly carried my shawl away. Ms. Rukia and I tried in vain to catch it, but to no avail. We wandered off for some time before finding it hanging loosely on the topmost branch of an ancient cherry blossom tree. Ms. Rukia and I could do nothing but to wait for the wind to carry the shawl over to some more level ground. We waited and waited, but no wind blew on that particular afternoon and it was already time for her afternoon lessons. I reluctantly joined Ms. Rukia after throwing one last glance at the fluttering shawl, vowing I will come back to it this evening.

Here, I must make a point to note that my pupil is a rare kind of bird; she has bright mind and exquisite features with china-smooth skin and very large eyes. She is slight in frame, and despite her delicateness she displays the famed Rotwood pride and stubbornness like her brother. Her honest manner is easier to bond with, though, than Mr. Rotwood's austerity. Ms. Rukia is vivacious while Mr. Rotwood is a rather impassionate young man—perhaps due to difference in age and experiences? People say that the Rotwoods are like an ice sculpture: pretty to behold yet the frostbite will burn your fingertips. Mr. Rotwood is all of that and more, and you need not my personal accounts to verify the sentiment. Any young ladies who harbored even a trace of amorous feelings towards him will be willing witness. Yet, I believe he's irritation towards those whom he deems unworthy of his time (and mind you, they include some of the members of the upper society) unleashes itself in such ignominious ways when combined with the famous Rotwood sarcasm. And how do I know it? Well, hopefully this little story may aid you to believe otherwise.

After the lesson was over, I was anxious to return to the spot I had left your gift. I couldn't just give up on it; the shawl was the warmest and softest fabric I've had in a long time, not to mention it came from you. I became too excited to eat my dinner, and in the end had a little soup and a tiny roll. As soon as the dinner was over, I hastily excused myself and nearly bolted out of the door to hurry towards the spot. Already the Sun had nearly gone down into the far mountains, and the sky had turned into deep purple by the time I reached the place. The shawl was lazily swishing against the soft, chilly current with no intention of descending. I slowly circled the tree, looking helplessly up and wondered whether I should at the very least attempt to climb the tree.

Do you remember the time when we climbed the young oak tree to hide from yelling headmaster? Well, the cherry blossom tree I was staring up was of same thickness, and about six times taller. So you mustn't chastise me for not chasing that shawl; the supple branch would have collapsed beneath my feet before I went half-way. Anyways, there I was, straining my eyes up the tree, for the night came. The soft current turned into howling wind and I wrapped my arms around my body to stop the shivering. Oh, how did I wish the shawl was with me! Yet I dared not to move; a hope that the wind will carry it down glimmered as the wind intensified. I was so intent on trying to make shape out of the shawl that I had no time to react when, suddenly, a horse's hoof rushed towards my direction. I fell on the ground, trying to block the hoof descending on me, when a familiar voice commanding, "Steady!" pierced my ears. My eyes popped open and I sat motionlessly on the earth, staring at Mr. Rotwood, bathed in moonlight. When he realized who I was, his looked astonished as well. I struggled to stand up but my legs gave way and I set there until Mr. Rotwood hoisted me up to my feet. I thanked him as gracefully as the situation allowed, which wasn't much.

"What brings you to the forest at this uncanny time of the night?" He murmured as he continued to support me. I could feel myself blushing furiously from his incredulous gaze.

"Mr. Rotwood, I-well, my shawl was carried away by the wind and I was trying to retrieve it." I whispered, as I realized how ridiculous I must sound to him. "It was a gift given by a friend."

He observed the branch for a while. I could see his eyebrow quirk. He turned towards me.

"Have you not another shawl?"

"No sir," I replied without meeting his eyes. It was utterly humiliating. He cleared his throat—I'm sure to hide his embarrassment for my dreadful financial state— and stared back at the tree. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to be done; both he and I knew it. In the end, we returned to the manor on horseback.

As soon as the dawn came, Mr. Rotwood accompanied me to the spot and found that the shawl was gone. I was devastated, and unwittingly have shown by discomfort for Ms. Rukia continued to ask whether I was all right during the breakfast, which I assured her I had no problem. Ms. Rukia and Mr. Rotwood departed soon after to attend the clan council and would not return until the following Sunday. I was thankful for the time to mourn the loss of that dear garment—It had kept me warm during long, chilly nights and against winter frost. I have never thought any shawl would be nicer than that one.

Of course, I was pleasantly disproved by the next Sunday. When the Rotwood siblings entered the house they had brought numerous packages, some plain and some luxurious. One package, an oblong box wrapped in delicate cream sheet, stood out. I hadn't given second thought to it, believing such luxury was surely intended for Ms. Rukia.

Imagine my surprise when I found the box on my desk after I retired into my chamber! I uncertainly lifted the box for closer examine when a letter fell from between the wrapping. It went, in Mr. Rotwood's neat penmenship:

"Ms. Scarlett,

Rukia seemed grieving at the idea of you losing your shawl, especially after I told her of what importance it holds for her. She suggested we get a new shawl for you. Hopefully you will enjoy it.

Have a pleasant evening"

I believe this is a rather strong argument for the Rotwoods and their aloof mannerism. Of course, people may deem my personal account as only excusable for Ms. Rukia; after all, it is she who initiated buying the shawl for me. Yet, wouldn't you say if Ms. Rukia has any good sense, which is to Mr. Rotwood's credit since he has been and is responsible for her upbringing?

I would love to hear your opinion of the matter; you have always been the smart one.

Yours,

Scarlett

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_A private message telegramed to a Mr. Andersen of Rosewood Boutique_

Sir,

Mr. Rotwood wishes to order a blue shawl from your store. The material must be superb and the design handsome. He cares not for the cost, but only wishes to attain it as soon as possible. I shall expect the work to be done by next Sunday, at the latest.

Your servant,

Haller


End file.
